You Went Away
by jemisard
Summary: Most people never have to face their breaking point. Jak and Daxter are not most people.


Title: You Went Away

Author: Jemisard

Rating: PG

Status: Complete

Archive: Ask and ye shall receive.

Disclaimers: I have borrowed them without permission for my own nefarious plans. I promise to return them, in more or less the same condition.

Thanks: To VasillisChilde. For VasillisChilde

Summary: Daxter reaches his breaking point. So does Jak.

Warnings: Cussing.

Everyone has a breaking point. Most people just never have to face it.

"This is a big one. The pumping station has been taken over by the metal heads, they're swarming the place, trying to send the city into a drought and break the defences when they crack and go out there to get water."

Torn's voice was huskier than ever, the strain of the lack of water showing on him. Dust coated everyone's mouths, settling about them like a heavy cloak.

Daxter leapt from Jak's shoulder to the table, shaking as he landed, dislodging dust into the air again. "How many constitutes a swarm?"

"More than three hundred. And not the usual crawlers. Combat metal heads."

"Combat metal heads!" Daxter grabbed Torn's shirt. "Three hundred combat metal heads?!"

"A rough estimate. Krew's man went out yesterday and did a survey."

"Sig?" Jak cut in.

"Yeah. He was messed up trying to get to the pump valve." Torn drew his knife and examined it. "Way we figure, you're worth about three of him, so it shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Hold on. Why isn't Praxis doing anything about it? The entire city will die."

"Praxis has water. The castle is on a separate line. Once people start dropping, they'll beg the Guard to go in and Praxis will lord it over them for years." The underground lieutenant looked thoughtful. "I imagine that's his plan. Use this to bring the public to their knees."

"Three hundred combat metal heads?! You are not sending Jak and I against three hundred combat metal heads!" The ottsel was getting more and more agitated, slinking up and down the desk. "It's suicide!"

"You'll have back up." Torn sheathed his knife. "I'm coming with you this time."

"No! Two people and an ottsel do not take on three hundred combat metal heads! Not if they want to return again and continue living with all their limbs in place!"

"Daxter, calm down." Jak drew the blaster. "The more of them die, the more often I can really show them who's boss." A crackle of black lightning flicked between Jak's fingers. "I'm all ready to break some metal heads open and hand over those skull gems."

"Calm down! Jak, going dark and gruesome more often is not a good thing! Not even on metal heads. You know what sort of damage it's doing?"

"It does enough to stop them." Jak holstered the weapon again.

"Not to them, you dumb blonde! To you. Losing it to your not so friendly dark eco alter ego is not something you should do more often, buddy." Daxter grabbed Jak's shirt. "This is suicide! We need an army!"

"People are gonna die without that water!"

"People are gonna die without that water if we go out there with just two people and an ottsel!" The tiny figure twisted and leapt up onto his usual perch. "Us dying won't achieve anything! We'll just be dead."

Trying to grab Daxter as he went over his head, Jak settled for sighing when the ottsel crawled down his arm onto the table again. "Settle, Daxter. You're jumpy enough for everyone. Sit still."

"I can't! We're going to die! That might not scare you, but it sure as hell scares me. I'm not doing it! I'm not going out there, not when they're swarming into an army!"

The screeching was almost hysterical. It was normal for Daxter to complain, whine, sulk and bitch about every mission they did, but this was far from normal. "Dax..."

"No, Jak! I'm not going! I can't keep doing this!" He sat down, clutching the tip of his tail. "I can't go out there again."

"Daxter..." Jak knelt down and paused for a moment.

"Rat, three hundred is the least of your problems. If you don't stop bitching, I'll take you out there and feed you to them myself."

"Shut up!" Daxter screamed. "Shut up!"

"Dax, I won't let him feed you to them."

"I'm not going out of this city!"

"Just once more. C'mon, Dax."

"No! No!" Something almost visibly snapped as Jak's hand tried to gently catch the squirming ottsel. "No! You can't make me!"

He twisted and jumped, landing on the floor on all fours. With amazing speed he was bolting, twisting under the bunks and dashing between Jak's legs as he tried to stop him.

Two years ago, Daxter had been scared to see his own tail. Now, he moved just like a trapped animal would.

"Daxter!" Jak ran after him, stopping when a hand grabbed his wrist.

"Leave him. He isn't needed. He'll get in the way."

Jak pulled again, calling out to his friend.

The hand tightened. "Jak, the city needs you. We're the only people who can help it."

'He needs me,' Jak thought. 'No one else can help him.' He turned to Torn. "Let me go. I'm going after him."

"You can't." Torn scowled. "We don't have time. Leave him."

"Something might happen to him."

"Hopefully someone will step on him. Let's go, Jak." The hand tugged again.

Anger blurred Jak's vision. "No one hurts Daxter," he growled. "Especially not you."

Torn's hand dropped away as the skin under his crackled.

Curled up in his hiding hole, Daxter stared at the darkening streets of Haven city.

He didn't know how long he had been here. He barely remembered the screaming back at the Underground, just remembered the mind numbing fear when he realised that it would be just three of them out there with three hundred combat metal heads.

Jak would be worried about him.

He slunk out of the hole and stretched, shaking off another layer of dust and dirt that had taken up permanent residence in his fur.

He had to go back and face the music.

Forcing himself to trot, he headed back through the winding corridors of the slums, dodging between the shuffling feet of the local population. It was a long walk when you were this small and unable to hitch a ride on the nearest hovercraft.

The daylight had vanished when he turned into the deadend alley. The street lights provided enough light to see by, but it wasn't what he could see that he was suddenly worried about.

Further down the alley, he could hear voices. Worried voices. Underground voices. Samos, Tess, he could even hear Ashelin.

No Torn. No Jak.

Forcing nonchalance, he stood up on two legs and walked around the corner, paws clutched behind his back. "Good evening, ladi– What the hell happened?!"

Torn lay on the ground, body and arms packed with bandaging. Tess nursed his head on her lap while Samos paced up and down in front of the large seal that hid the door to the base. Ashelin stood nearby, her hand on her gun.

"Where's Jak?!"

Three of them turned to Daxter in surprise. "Daxter!" Tess screamed. "We thought you were dead!"

"Why would I be dead? Where's Jak?" He scurried over to Tess, pausing as he saw how pale Torn looked. "Obviously he was too unpalatable even for the metal heads," he weakly stated.

"This is no laughing matter." Ashelin looked down at him. "We thought you were inside."

"Inside?"

Samos nodded sombrely. "In the base. I was returning from a meeting and I found Torn out here in a pool of his own blood. He had managed to seal off the door."

"Seal off, pool of... Where's Jak?" Daxter stamped his foot and leapt onto Torn's chest, making the semiconscious man groan. "What did you do to my buddy, asshole?"

Torn's eyes flicked open, seething with pain and anger. He gasped for breath, swatting at Daxter, who obligingly jumped his hand and landed back on his chest again.

"Tell me what you did to Jak! If you hurt him, so help me I'll make those injuries look like love bites!"

"Dark... Jak..."

The world went silent.

"Wha- what?"

"He means Jak went psychotic and tried to tear him to pieces. He escaped up here and sealed him inside the base before he got out and got caught by the Krimzon Guard or worse, started killing innocent people." Ashelin spat the words out, like they tasted bad. "He's been raving down there ever since."

"No... Not Jak." Daxter shook his head. "It never lasts long. He snaps out of it in a minute or two, and he's back to being friendly ol' Jak again. Mostly friendly. More or less friendly." He shook his head again. "Not the point. He never stays that way."

"Jak has born a heavy weight. The Dark eco was still coursing through him. It was always possible that one day he might lose to it." Samos said softly.

_A dark power lies within you. One day, it will consume you in madness._

"No. You're all wrong. Jak has not been lost to the Dark eco." Daxter clenched his fists. "You're not giving up on him."

"It's been eight hours. He's still going. You can hear him."

In the silence that followed, he could. He could hear the growling and snarling and howls of frustrated rage.

"I fear that this time, Jak will not be coming back."

"No!" Fear shivered through him again. "Jak's not gone! He's in there!" He streaked between Samos' legs and opened the panel that hid the door.

"Daxter, don't open it!"

He shut the panel, cutting off the last cry of, "He'll kill yo–".

He opened the door and crept down the stairs, towards to the raging monster that was hiding his best friend.

The stairwell opened out into the main room. The bunks were destroyed, torn to pieces and tossed aside. The desk was slammed up against the wall, papers clawed and tossed.

A figure stalked from a side room. Daxter pushed himself up against the wall, back into the shadows.

Jak paused, looking about. The long dark horns, curling from his skull, almost absorbed the dim lamp light. His pale hair was in disarray, his hands tugging on it , long claws scratching at his scalp, drawing blood that seeped along the fine white strands.

With another growl, he slammed his fist into the wall.

All the other doors had been smashed open. It would only be time before he worked out a way to get out.

Jak looked about again and leapt, landing on the remains on a bed, shredding the mattress more. Daxter could his face now, twisted with anger, rage and frustration.

"Dax..."

For a heart stopping moment, Daxter thought Jak had caught him.

Then he realised. Jak hasn't seen him.

He was looking for him.

Forcing his trembling limbs still, he stepped out into the light. "Heya, gruesome."

The pale man stopped and looked closely. Daxter smiled reassuringly and sidled closer, his heart racing. He leant against a muscled forearm. "This how you spend all your Saturday evenings?"

There was a shudder through Jak. "Daxter?"

The name was almost a sigh, and the cold skin warmed as colour flushed back through him. White hair melted back into blonde and green and the horns receded back into his skull. "Daxter?"

"Hey, Jak." He smiled, no glib remark on his lips.

"Daxter?"

"We've been through this three times. Yes. Me Daxter. You Jak. Well, now you're Jak."

Jak fell back, sitting among the ruins of the bed. "You're all right?"

"Slept rough for a few hours, but I'll live." He climbed up onto Jak's knee. "How are you, buddy? That was a pretty long spell."

"I was angry." The voice was so lost and child like. "It was just like always. I was angry and I wanted to make everyone hurt like me. Then I heard you and it faded back again."

Jak looked down at Daxter. "You make it hurt less. I remember not everything is bad."

Daxter stared up, silent for once. He could think of nothing to say. Not one word.

In the end, he settled for crawling into Jak's lap and letting the older boy hug him in his warm arms.


End file.
